


Getting Used To Things

by DryDreams



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Masturbation, Other, THIS IS SELF CARE, there's a strong pain/bruises kink here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 23:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12330690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryDreams/pseuds/DryDreams
Summary: After Jesse loses his arm he struggles a little with the self-hatred thing. This is him trying to work out some of that shit.





	Getting Used To Things

Jesse scrolled past the nicely lit moving image on the blog with just a glance. Then something tugged at him and he scrolled back, taking in the few repeating frames. Vaguely he was aware of his heart beating faster, imagining the hands on the screen were skating over his own stomach instead of that of whatever adult film star whose repertoire the gif has been taken from. 

He shifted where he lay on his side, twisting his hips and encouraging the sweet hints of pleasure threatening to pulse through him. Jesse wasn't in the habit of paying attention to those small wants, these days. Pushed the feelings down and away, or took care of it quick and mindlessly. Didn’t indulge in himself.

But tonight his sheets were freshly clean and so was he, hair still damp against his neck. Three square meals had gotten into him today and his shoulders still ached pleasantly from an increased workout the day before. The sticky aura of anxiety and a body that spent too much time in bed feeling sorry for itself was washed away for a precious few hours. Almost as if he was a new and different person. 

Deftly he closed out of the tab and flicked on an album of old Chilean love songs, some of his favorites for lonely stupid nights. As he rolled onto his back he went to mimic the movement of the hand in the image, slipping up under his shirt. 

The shock of cool metal greeted him and he jerked his hand back, breath quickening. Frustrated, he closed his eyes and squeezed the prosthetic hand into a fist. 

_Am I ever going to fucking get used to this?_

_It’s been two months. Give it time._

_It’s not like you’re any different._

_You’re not any less worthy and all that._

_You know it’s true, so why are you still doing this to yourself?_

“Fuck,” he said plainly, to no one. Then, hesitantly, he picked his hand back up to try again. 

The temperature was nice against his skin, really. And the hinges and ridges didn't catch at all, they’re smooth. Jesse sighed and forced himself to relax as he experimentally rolled a nipple between metal fingers. It felt good--maybe better than usual-- and he bit his lip. Letting his legs fall apart he moved his hips in a small circle. The fabric of his sweatpants brushed his cock and it twitched, filling out as he continued to worry at his chest.

Something like loneliness but not quite twinged in him when he brought his other hand to his lips, brushing over them lightly. He took the tip of his middle finger in between his lips and lightly sucked on it, licking at it, wishing briefly it was someone else's and that they might give him more, gag him and make him choke. There was tangible heat pooling in his abdomen now and his hips bucked slightly at the fantasy. 

Instead Jesse continued to suck lightly, dipping two fingers in and pressing down on his tongue as he bravely slipped his other hand under the waistband of his pants. He was fully hard now and he carefully pressed one metal finger to the tip of his cock, letting it slip over the slit and down the head. The light sensation made him shiver, the hand didn’t really feel like his. 

In a rare display of restraint he teased himself, running his hand up his inner thigh and cupping his balls. The hand was almost body temperature now and were it not for the smooth not-pliant texture of his fingers the sensation might have been close to familiar. Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes and let a small sound escape his throat, high pitched and vulnerable. 

Jesse didn’t want to push it so he switched hands, wrapping now-wet fingers around his cock and tugging. The other hand was stronger, significantly so and he didn’t trust himself to control the pressure. That sparked an idea in his mind though and he reached up to take a firm hold of his own throat, gripping his jaw as if someone were forcing his head back. “Shit,” he breathed as he twisted the hand on his cock and pressed the tips of his fingers into the tender skin of his neck. Hard. He wanted bruises later--always wanted bruises.

There was one on his side now, Gabe had nailed him good during training, slammed him down into the mat. He rolled to put pressure on the spot and it ached so good. His breath hitched and he felt his orgasm rushing up onto him--but he wasn’t done yet. Quickly he let go of himself with both hands, bringing them to his head and trying to steady his breathing. His thighs shook minutely as his body realized it had nothing to be wound up for anymore. 

After a few moments he started to slowly stroke himself again, pushing two metal fingers into his mouth this time. They didn’t taste like pennies, as he expected them too. They didn’t taste like anything. 

When Jesse wriggled onto his side, the bruise on his hip twinged with pain again and he whimpered. He bit down on his fingers once before slipping them out of his mouth and reaching around to rub at his entrance. 

Pushing the new fingers into himself was so strange and different that a thrill of odd pleasure shot through him. They were hard and unyielding like something inanimate but they moved like they should, like his real hand used to. Very quickly, desperately he pressed both into himself as deeply as he could--not quite deep enough but the stretch still did it for him. He moaned and started to thrust them in and out, slowly. It took concentration not to slow the movement of his hand on his cock, his brain wanting to move them in unison. 

Jesse was so caught up in himself for a few minutes, breath hitching regularly as he focused on the feeling of it all, something he’d been denying himself for a long time...that this time, his orgasm snuck up on him. His back arched and he turned his head, moaning brokenly into his pillow as he spilled into his fist. 

Reaching blindly for the tissue box he knew was on his bedside table and snatching a few, he flopped onto his back. 

_That wasn’t so bad. Was pretty good, just admit it._

_This doesn’t make you less human._

_You’re still worthy of love._

Jesse sucked in a deep breath and then let it out with a sigh. He threw the tissues on the ground. They’d probably stay there. His room was never clean these days. Not for very long. 

_Maybe if you keep saying all this shit you’ll eventually believe it. Maybe._

**Author's Note:**

> oops this was just supposed to be a kinktober then it turned into a really personal thing fuck I'm so weak for Jesse  
> hope you liked it
> 
> I am @squeebop on twitter come yell about Jesse with me


End file.
